Shop's history in the making

CITY OF NEWBURGH — John Courtsunis sat in the back of the shop his father and uncle opened 72 years ago and shook his head.

Doyle Murphy

CITY OF NEWBURGH — John Courtsunis sat in the back of the shop his father and uncle opened 72 years ago and shook his head.

Ever think about closing this place?

"No, God, no, never," he said.

Courtsunis said this as he sorted through pictures of the insides of the Commodore Chocolatier. These were the post-fire pictures. They showed the smoke-smudged candy cases, the burned-out wall panels and the fire-yellowed tin roof.

He shot them shortly after the June night when the old air conditioner's switch broke down and set the place ablaze. Firefighters showed up at the Broadway store front to find flames coming out the side of the building. They doused the fire in 10 minutes and saved the three-story building, but the Commodore suffered the combination of flames, smoke and water.

It seemed like a bad break for a city with a desperate nostalgia for a more cosmopolitan Broadway of 50 years ago. The Commodore was one of the few remaining links to that era, and there it was, smoke-filled with fire hoses stretched inside the door.

Courtsunis vowed to bring it back. He photographed the damage after the fire and logged the images on his computer. They'll become part of the story of the place — the Fire of 2007. They'll fit in a narrative that began in 1935 when his father and uncle opened the Commodore as an ice cream parlor and soda fountain. They served food there until World War II food rationing forced them to stop.

Those days are a memory now. The soda fountain is gone. The old counters and wall panels went into storage after the fire. The tin ceiling came down. Courtsunis had to decide what he could preserve and what would be redone. He settled on a design that kept the feel of the old Commodore but fit the changes they'd made since 1935.

Custom-made mahogany panels line the walls where the old ones once stood. New doors swing from the old automatic closers. A new fire-stop ceiling hangs where pressed tin once did, and central air replaced the old air conditioner.

The Commodore reopened on Dec. 3. Business was a little slow that day, but then the old customers began to hear about it. Saturday, Courtsunis chatted with a stream of them before slipping next door to the kitchen to help rebuild the stock of chocolates wiped out by the Christmas rush.

No, he said, there was never a doubt about reopening: "The history, the people, all of it — way too much to walk away from."

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